Sweet Dreams
by Night Lotus Blossom
Summary: Ellie dreams of John.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Chuck or any of the characters therein, but I do enjoy playing in the sandbox.

Ellie moaned, her hips undulating in response to John greedily licking the nectar dripping from her core like sweet, sugary honey. She loved the sound of him sucking on her. A strangled cry escaped her lips as he impaled her with his fevered tongue, the rough stubble on his face deliciously scraping the tender skin of her inner thighs, driving her over the edge.

Her eyes fluttered open and she stretched long and slow, her mouth forming a satiated grin. "Oh my, that was _very _neighborly," she giggled, settling back on her pillow, snuggling in for more sweet, sexy dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

Casey gave a satisfied grunt as he slid effortlessly into the butter soft leather of the recliner, clad in black silk pajama bottoms and a matching black t-shirt, which molded itself to his muscular torso. He reached for the bottle of whiskey sitting on the coffee table, unscrewed the cap, and poured a generous two fingers worth of liquid nirvana into a cut crystal glass. Taking a sip, he appreciated the slow burn coursing down the back of his throat before settling down to business.

It was a slow night at Casa Bartowski. The moron and Walker were out on a "date" and Captain Jerk Off was away for the weekend with his boyfriends, engaging in some sort of pathetic frat boy shit that probably involved lighting themselves on fire before hurtling off a cliff. "Idiots," he muttered as his mouth curled up in a disgusted sneer. He had seen Ellie arrive home about an hour earlier, looking drained from her latest 12 hour stint at the hospital. While she was most likely snoozing away in bed by now, it was his job and his duty to at least perform an audio sweep of the premises.

He put on his headphones, which were plugged in to his state of the art listening device, and started in the living room, slowly fanning out over the common areas, followed by the bathroom and Bartowski's bedroom, listening attentively for any sound that would signal that something was amiss. His last stop was Ellie's bedroom, where he lingered, hearing the slow, sleep-induced sounds of her breathing mixed with the occasional silky whisper of the sheets. What he wouldn't give to be in between those sheets with her doing some hands-on surveillance. Yeah, he had developed himself quite a little longing for the Asset's lovely sister. Hell, she was hot, smart, and kind-hearted, more than a poindexter like McAwesome deserved. Being the predator that he was, his natural instinct was to go sniffing around her door while her man was away at play. Only his sense of honor and unwillingness to compromise the mission kept him from pursuing his prey.

He was just about to call it an evening when he heard Ellie's breathing start to get more rapid and erratic. He focused his concentration on the sounds starting to emerge. Ellie gave what could only be characterized as a low-throated moan, and Casey distinctly heard her thrashing about wildly in the sheets. "Sweet Christ…" Ellie's sex-soaked cry instantly cut off his musings. She giggled in his ear "Oh my, that was _very_ neighborly," and a few seconds later he heard the sounds of her settling.

He barely prevented himself from spewing a mouthful of Maker's Mark all over his finely tuned and very expensive surveillance equipment. He ripped off the headphones, having the presence of mind to at least throw them onto the seat of the recliner rather than the hard surface of the coffee table, while he reached for his closest fully loaded gun, tucking it into the waistband of his pajamas against the small of his back. He was about to make a mad dash for the door when the more highly evolved portion of his brain came online. "Don't go barging in there like a jackass," it warned, "take a minute to assess the situation."

He paced back and forth in the entryway, trying to piece together a reasonable scenario based on what he had just heard. "Think Johnny boy, think" cajoled the little voice inside his head. He had been visually monitoring the Bartowski household since before Ellie arrived home and saw no one other than her enter or leave the premises. He reached the video surveillance monitor sitting on his desk in three long strides and flipped it on, quickly bringing up the feed from Ellie's bedroom. He breathed a sigh of relief. She was very much alone and from what it looked like, sleeping quietly.

Something was still worrying itself at the back of his mind. Oh, yeah, the whole "neighborly" thing. What was up with that? It was obvious to him now that Ellie had been dreaming, but which of her neighbors was her object de delight? Was it an old, made up, or current neighbor? His mind quickly inventoried their immediate neighbors in the courtyard, eliminating possibilities as he went along. It couldn't be old Mr. Kwiatkowski in unit 112, who was 82 if he was a day and would require an entire bottle of the little blue pills just to lift his staff to half mast. Then, there was leisure suit Larry in 115 who had back hair and a penchant for polyester. A shudder passed through him. That was just plain repulsive. Unit 109 housed a female accountant, Adele something or other, and he didn't think Ellie batted for that team. That left him. His brows lifted and he thoughtfully rubbed the stubble on his chin with his sizeable left hand. What had started out as a mundane evening of routine surveillance work was taking an interesting turn.

Casey sauntered back to the recliner, scooped up the headphones and brought them back to his desk, plugging them into the audio jack on the video monitor and placing them back on his ears. He sat down in front of the monitor and did what he did best, looked and listened. A few minutes elapsed and Ellie started shifting slightly in the sheets. Her head tossed back and forth, and her lips parted. She mumbled something indecipherable, and Casey adjusted the small tuning knob on his left earphone. He could hear better now. She was definitely trying to say something. His eardrums strained to catch the smallest of sounds.

"John," she breathed out in a whisper. His blue-eyed gaze widened almost imperceptibly and his pupils dilated. Yep, that confirmed it. "Well, well, well, Miss Ellie. You have been a very naughty girl, keeping things from 'ole John," he thought, a wolfish grin spreading over his handsome features as he sat back and plotted his next move. This definitely upped the ante.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Sweet Dreams: Sweet Treat

**Author**: Night_Lotus

**Rating**: R

**Word Count**: 1,224

**Disclaimer: **I neither own Chuck nor its marvelous characters, but I do have fun bringing them out to play.

* * *

Ellie woke up refreshed and raring to go from one of the best nights of sleep she'd had in ages. It was early Saturday morning, and the entire weekend was hers since her next shift at the hospital didn't start until late Monday afternoon.

While she was certainly happy about the much-needed respite from work, that didn't solely explain her heightened sense of elation. As she climbed out of bed and walked the short distance to the bathroom, it all came rushing back. A hot, crimson blush stung her cheeks as images of John doing a host of hot, wicked and forbidden things to her, flooded her mind.

_It's perfectly normal to have erotic dreams, healthy even, s_he rationalized as she entered the bathroom and plucked her toothbrush from its slot in the wall-mounted silver holder. Ellie shuddered as a bolt of pure pleasure shot through her core, causing the toothbrush to slip from her suddenly nerveless fingers, as the raw, lusty footage from her dreams continued to project itself on the gigantic movie screen that had taken up residence in her brain.

She nearly felt his large, warm, roughened hands roam languorously over her skin, and her inner muscles clenched in anticipation as she recalled how he had lapped away at her moistened folds and suckled her bundle of desire, like a ravenous lion devouring its prey. Her knees nearly buckled before she grasped the countertop, arresting her fall. _Okay, this is ridiculous_, she mentally castigated herself. _Get a grip, Ellie. I mean, really? Involving your innocent, unsuspecting neighbor in your overly romantic flights of fantasy? Come on!_ It didn't help that the physical intimacy between her and Devon had become nearly nonexistent and the emotional distance between them was like a yawning chasm staring her in the face. She wasn't sure what she was going to do about the situation, and she certainly didn't want to think about it right now.

Abruptly and somewhat painfully shifting her focus, Ellie finished up in the bathroom and headed back to her bedroom, where she fished in her dresser for appropriate running attire. She would clear her head with a run, come back and shower, have some breakfast and make her way to the farmer's market for some fresh produce. She selected a pair of soft grey leggings and an oversized pink t-shirt from the drawer. After quickly dressing, she pulled her long brown hair into a ponytail and donned her running shoes. On her way out, she stopped in the kitchen and filled her water bottle, grabbing her house keys and iPod from the counter.

Arriving back home an hour later, Ellie felt invigorated from her run along the beach, the resistance of the sand making her muscles burn, producing an endorphin rush that was still sweeping through her system. _Ahhh, that was just what I needed_, she mused as she unlaced and stepped out of her shoes, continuing to undress in the bathroom, tossing her sweaty running clothes into the wicker hamper before turning on the shower.

Freshly showered, Ellie stood barefoot in her bedroom, wrapped in a towel, inspecting the contents of her closet. With a critical eye, she chose a sunny, lemon yellow sundress, partnering it with a pair of white, open-toed sandals, which would keep her cool and comfortable while she shopped at the farmer's market. While she was dressing, her stomach issued a loud growl, reminding her that she still hadn't eaten yet today. After dressing, she went to the kitchen and made quick work of a large bowl of cereal, a banana and a cold glass of orange juice, while standing at the counter.

Readying herself to go out again, Ellie gathered her purse, car keys and sunglasses and was pulling a large canvas grocery tote out of the hall closet, when the doorbell chimed. Not expecting anyone, she went to the door and peered through the peep hole. "Holy crap!" she whispered shakily, her eyes widening as she saw who was standing in her entryway.

Ellie took a moment to collect herself before opening the door, schooling her features into what she prayed was a benign look. "John, hi," she said as she swung open the door, feigning a look of pleasant surprise. "How are you?" Why did he have to be wearing such a tight, deep azure-colored t-shirt that accentuated his eyes and gave her a very healthy look at the almost obscene arm candy that he was sporting? And the dove gray slacks that were worshipping his equally impressive lower half? She was desperately attempting to keep the very unladylike drool from leaving her mouth.

"Hi, Ellie," he replied, eying the numerous items she was managing to hang on to one-handed. "It looks like you're going out. I can come back later. I don't want to keep you." _Yeah, right,_ the miniature fork-tailed fiend sitting on his shoulder, snarked. _You definitely want to keep her, big guy._

"Don't be silly," she stepped aside, letting him in. "The errands can wait. Please, come in." John smiled sheepishly as he moved into the living room where Ellie was standing. "Thanks, I just wanted to stop by and see if I could get the recipe for those incredible cookies you served for dessert last weekend." His blue-eyed gaze lingered on her plump lower lip. "I feel like having a little something sweet."

"Oh, the chocolate caramel crunch ones?" she questioned in a slightly high-pitched voice. I'm so glad you enjoyed them," she gushed. Dilated grey eyes met his as the pink tip of her tongue darted out of her mouth to nervously lick at her lips. "Let me get the recipe for you." He drank in the delectable sight she made as she went to the kitchen to retrieve the recipe. He particularly enjoyed how the sweet little sundress gently accentuated her curves and the lightly tanned skin of her toned arms and legs. It didn't take a spy like him, adept in interpreting the barest nuances of body language, to divine that he was definitely having an effect on her.

Ellie walked back into the living room, smiling brightly, but sans recipe. John looked at her curiously, eager to learn what put the huge smile on her face. "John, you know what?" She meshed her fingers together while rising up on the balls of her feet, still smiling. "I will gladly give you the recipe, but I just remembered that I should have all of the ingredients we need to make a batch right now, if you're interested."

_Well, this is going far better than I planned,_ he concluded. What had started as a simple experiment to gauge her reaction to seeing him in person after last night's naughty girl dreams was quickly blossoming into a full-fledged opportunity. "Are you sure?" he implored contritely. "I don't want to interfere further with your errands."

"I'm definitely sure. I have the entire weekend to get those done, and you've really put me in a baking mood," she demurred. "Well, if that's the case, I would love to," he said, gallantly offering her his arm. She laughingly took it, with a small blush, as he led them into the kitchen. _This is going to be fun_, he thought, as a devilish smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

TBC: Next, John and Ellie get busy in the kitchen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: Sweet Dreams: Sweet Temptation

**Author**: Night_Lotus

**Rating**: NC-17

**Word Count**:

**Disclaimer: **I neither own Chuck nor its marvelous characters, but I do have fun bringing them out to play.

**Author's Note**: This takes place within Season 2 of "Chuck." Can dreams truly become reality?

_Wow, I've just had an epic failure in judgment_, Ellie thought as she wrapped her small, slim fingers around John's bulging bicep as he led them into the kitchen. _Yep, nothing like drenching a smoldering fire with a steady stream of kerosene. _

John loved the feel of Ellie'shand resting on his skin, _right where it belonged_, he decided, allowing his gaze to run possessively down her arm, lingering where her fingers met his flesh. Images of her caressing his exposed skin flashed through his head, and he barely prevented a low, rumbling growl from escaping his throat as they stopped at the kitchen counter.

Ellie reluctantly removed her hand from John's arm, instantly mourning the loss of heat and the feel of hard muscle. _God, I want to be naked with him, now!_ The unsolicited intrusion of that hot little thought shattered her consciousness like a rocket-propelled grenade, and she briefly faltered, looking stunned.

"Easy there, Ellie. Are you okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice as he placed a steadying hand at the small of her back.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine, John." The warmth of his hand quickly seeped through the thin fabric of her sundress. She plastered her sunniest smile back on her face. "I was just distracted for a minute thinking about the equipment we need to bake the cookies," she fibbed.

John smiled back, his blue eyes lighting up. "I'm all yours. Just tell me what you want me to do." _This is going to be torture_, she lamented, mentally kicking herself for answering the door a few minutes earlier and allowing her mind to dive deeply into very dangerous, unchartered waters.

"Can you grab a stick of butter and an egg from the fridge, while I get the dry ingredients we need?" she requested.

"On it," he answered, removing his hand and reaching out to swing open the refrigerator door.

Ellie let out a slow and shaky breath as she went to the pantry and gathered flour, sugar, shortening, cinnamon, cocoa, Heath Bar pieces, caramels, macadamia nuts and an array of other components.

Having made quick work of retrieving the egg and butter from the fridge, John hurried over to the pantry to assist Ellie with the mountain of ingredients she was attempting to juggle.

"Here, Ellie. Let me help you with those," he offered, taking the caramels and flour, which were threatening to simultaneously topple out of her arms.

After setting those items on the counter, he turned toward her as she began placing her burden on the counter. As he swept the remaining jar of cinnamon out of her hand, he ran the backs of his fingers against the sensitive skin of her palm in a long, slow caress.

"Th- thank you," she stuttered, gazing up at him with enormous eyes, as the pink tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her plump, already-parted lips.

Damn if he didn't want a long, slow taste of that ripe mouth. First, he would lap at her full, ruby-red lips with tongue, and then take her sweet and sassy lower lip between his teeth and suck it into the hot depths of his mouth. After that, he—"John, I just need to grab the mixer, and we can get started," Ellie announced, having finally recovered her voice and most of her faculties.

"Here, let me get it for you," he volunteered, easily lifting the 30 pound cherry red KitchenAid Pro mixer one-handed from the corner of the counter near the stove where it was stowed, carrying it over to the breakfast bar where Ellie was creating an intriguing and colorful mise en place.

She watched as his bicep seemingly doubled in size as he effortlessly picked up the mixer and carried it to her. _God, what am I doing?_ she questioned, closing her eyes and praying for a return to sanity, which would allow her to think clearly and to cut through the pulsating, inflamed, boiling and burning-hot haze that was coating her skin, seeping into her pores, wrapping around her insides and causing her to crave him and nothing else.

"You sure you're okay, Ellie?" he asked, setting the mixer down in front of her, noticing the feverish look in her eyes.

She gave him her brightest smile. "Just fine."

As he stood next to her at the counter, she slid a small plastic cutting board and knife to him, placing the bag of caramels and a glass bowl filled with a scant amount of flour, next to it. "Would you mind quartering the caramels and tossing them with the flour in that bowl?"

John started unwrapping the individual candies. "Use me and abuse me," he winked. "That's what I'm here for."

_Oh, you have no idea how many, many, creative, wicked and downright dirty ways I would __**love**__ to use and abuse you, starting by licking and biting my way across that strong, sexy, sculpted jaw, slowly working over to that sinful mouth of yours. _Her mind drifted for the umpteenth time that day as she imagined his lips opening under hers and their tongues entangling in the heat of his mouth. 

Ellie reluctantly shook herself back to reality and began to mix the dry ingredients. They worked in peaceful, companionable silence for several minutes. He continued deftly cutting into the soft, gooey caramels, popping a whole one into his mouth and surreptitiously chewing, while she wasn't looking. Using the mixer, she creamed the wet ingredients together, and the smell of vanilla and brown sugar infused the kitchen.

As she slowly and steadily added the flour to the wet, sticky mass, dough began to form under the powerful, spinning paddle as it beat, slapped and whipped the ingredients together. When everything was combined to her satisfaction, she stopped the mixer, removed the paddle, placing it in the sink, and disengaged the stainless steel bowl from the arms of the mixer.

She placed the large, metal, dough-filled bowl on the counter next to the smaller glass bowl that now held the caramels, which were lightly dusted with flour to prevent them from clumping together in one big sticky mass when they were added to the dough.

John looked at her expectantly. "Now comes the fun part," she laughed, smiling up at him. "This is where we get messy."

He moved closer to her, so close they were almost touching. "Well then, let's get down and dirty, Ms. Bartowski."

She smiled, an adorable blush warming her apple cheeks. "Okay, let's start by you dumping those caramels in here," she said, scooting the mixing bowl closer to him. "Then, we'll add the macadamia nuts and Heath Bar pieces."

After he tossed the caramels in the bowl, she added the nuts and candy. She eyed the bowl and then looked up at him. "Dig in, John."

"Aren't we supposed to bake them first? he questioned, seeking to understand exactly what she was asking of him.

The melodious sound of her laughter and the accompanying look of mirth in her eyes, made him respond in kind. He gave her a rare grin, the bright white flash of teeth starkly contrasting with his tanned skin. "Why do I have the sudden, sneaking suspicion that you're trying to con me into doing the dirty work for you, Ellie?"

"Probably because I am," she laughed. "Here, I'll get us started, and you can help me finish, okay?" she said, removing her engagement ring, sliding the bowl closer to her and digging in with both hands to mix the candies into the sticky dough.

He moved silently to stand behind her, placing his hands on either side of the counter, trapping her between the breakfast bar and his body. She could feel the heat rolling off of him in strong, steady waves, enveloping her. He leaned forward, pressing his chest into her back as his hands reached into the bowl, his fingers entwining with hers. "I always finish what I start, Ellie."

She took a deep, unsteady breath and slowly leaned back, melting into him. She knew that she shouldn't, that she was well out of her depth, about to jump head long into an abyss, from which there was no climbing out. But, God, she was about as far from caring as humanly possible. It was heaven being surrounded by him, and she felt more safe, secure and peaceful than she had in a very, very long time.

She had always noticed him as a man and felt a strong physical attraction to him from his first appearance at her Sunday dinner table. Her appreciation for him quickly escalated to encompass his dry wit and quiet, yet very engaging personality. They slowly and steadily formed a bond, which grew into a friendship as they washed and dried the dinner dishes together every Sunday evening, sharing pleasant, easy conversation, which had long since evolved past surface niceties.

It was uncanny how quickly everyone scattered from the table after the meal was finished. She expected it from Morgan and even Chuck (who included Sarah in his vanishing act), but not from Devon. Devon had come to rely on and take advantage of John's good manners, just expecting their neighbor to help Ellie with the distasteful job of cleaning up, freeing him to go for a run, check in early at work, or just spend the rest of the evening hanging out with his bro crew.

John's brain was busy thinking along the same lines. Didn't the imbecile, who somehow managed to earn an MD, realize that he was shoving her right into his wide open and waiting arms? There was no accounting for common sense, he mused as he felt her luscious, curvy body settle around against him in all the right places. It was a perfect fit. He respected Ellie, admired her dedication to family and enjoyed her razor-sharp sense of humor, which was remarkable similar to his.

She was a hairsbreadth from being his, **all** his.

The fork-tailed fiend, consumed with lust, sent the undeniable urge to ravish her, pumping wildly through Casey's veins. _C'mon, big guy, can't you see and feel how much she wants you?_

Ellie was leaning into him, having just rested her head against his chest. When he looked down, he saw the pulse in her neck palpitating just below the surface of her skin, fluttering rapidly and delicately like the wings of a butterfly just emerging from its cocoon. The sweet and spicy scent of her perfume wafted up from her heated skin, tickling his nose.

The urge to latch on to the throbbing pulse point in her neck was overwhelming. The need to suck, bite and sample her was blinding, and he could practically taste her sweet, soft, salty skin. He wanted to devour every inch of her, knowing that he would never be satiated. He wanted to sink his teeth in, marking her. _Mine_! the demon roared.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world to her, imagining the friction generated by the crisp hair on his chest as he rubbed up and down her naked back while slowly and deeply sinking into her, making love to her, claiming her.

Her eyes now closed, she allowed her fingers to move in time with his, as they flipped, rolled, and pounded the dough together, sticky bits coating their hands.

"It's time for a taste now, Ellie, don't you think?" He squeezed her fingers gently with his, urging her to stop. Her eyes snapped open. "John, I—" "Shhh. Here, let me know if it's everything you expected," he coaxed, bringing a chunk of dough to her lips.

She opened her mouth, accepting the sugary treat from him. "Mmmm, hmmm, it's sinfully sweet. Perfect," she declared.

She dug into the bowl, breaking off a large piece, which was filled with nuts and caramel and reached back with her hand, lifting it to his mouth. She turned her head to the side and looked up as he bent his head to take it from her. He consumed the morsel, allowing the sweet taste to explode in his mouth.

"It does taste pretty good," he assessed. "But I don't think I got it all."

He grabbed her wrist, bringing her hand to his mouth. He started slowly and deliberately licking his way up her index finger, closing his lips, sucking at the sweetness clinging there. When he reached the top, he suctioned the tip into the wet heat of his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit, biting down gently, running his teeth over the sensitive pad. He worshipped the rest of her fingers with equal devotion, savoring her.

Her lower extremities had liquefied, turning into jelly the moment she felt the fiery touch of his mouth searing her fingers, and she closed her eyes again, allowing the exquisite sensations to course through her body. But for being pinned against the breakfast bar by the bulk of his much larger body, she would have met the floor in an unceremonious, very unladylike heap. As it was, her mind was spinning, and she felt a bead of wetness trickle down the inside of her thigh. He was incinerating her.

"There, that's better." He set her hand down gently on the bar and wrapped his arms around her waist, dropping his head down to nuzzle her with his nose. He trailed white-hot, open-mouthed kisses up the column of her neck, pausing to tongue away the rivulet of sweat coursing down her throat.

She was allowing a man other than Devon to kiss her and she didn't give a damn and hoped to hell it continued. While she was through with her fiancé spending the majority of his free time with his bros and lavishing more attention on his cardio bike than her, it went deeper than that.

She had a great time in college and in med school, a highlight of which was meeting and falling for Devon. But, she was an adult now and had already moved past the casual frivolity that accompanied those days. Having raised Chuck almost singlehandedly, she knew a thing or two about responsibility and maturity, and she wanted to be with someone who felt the same way, not someone who was, for all intents and purposes, still a member of the frat.

John's lips came to a stop, mere inches from her ear. "What's next, Ellie?" he murmured, and she could feel each word caress her skin as he gave breath to them.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. His blue eyes, darkened with desire, had turned a shade of deep indigo, and he held her gaze, waiting for her answer. Their mouths were so achingly close.

She lifted her head almost imperceptibly and that was all the consent he required. Instantly, his mouth was on hers, and he tugged at her lower lip with his teeth, wordlessly demanding entry. She granted him full access, moaning at the feel of him filling her mouth, tasting the melted caramel still coating his tongue.

The fed voraciously on each other, using their teeth, lips and tongue to nibble, tease, taste and devour each other. As they paused briefly for air, he turned her to face him and lifted her easily, sitting her atop the breakfast bar. He tugged on her hips, until she was flush against him, her dress riding up her thighs. She wound her long legs around his waist as his mouth slammed down on hers, and he held her tightly against him.

He eased one of his hands from her hip and slid it down her thigh, quickly meeting bare, heated flesh. His roughened fingertips left slow caresses in their wake, the abrasions causing delicious chills to chase down her spine. Her legs tightened around his waist and her hands moved down from his neck, traveling lower, until she was able to grasp a handful of his un-tucked shirt and pull it up, granting her barrier-free access to his back. He growled low in his throat as he felt her small hands massaging his muscles.

He trailed down the outside length of her leg until he reached her ankle and steadily began working his way back up, stroking and rubbing her satiny skin all the while, making her writhe beneath his hand. His fingers crept under the fabric of the sundress, as he continued to occupy her with his mouth, sucking on her tongue and swallowing the soft little whimpers that were threatening to be his undoing. Reaching the apex where she was velcro-ed to him, he rested his hand atop her thigh and pushed gently, while backing up a bit. She instantly intuited what he wanted, and she relaxed her hold around his waist. Having more space to maneuver, he trailed up her smooth flesh, resting his palm flat against the inside of her thigh, drawing deliberate circles against the sensitive flesh with his thumb.

He could feel the heat pouring from her core as he gently and reverently cupped her in his hand. He located the sensitive, engorged bud through the thin silk of her dampened panties and stroked it slowly at first, gradually increasing speed.

She broke the kiss, gasping for breath, angling her head back, arching and grinding against his hand as she felt his fingers slip beneath her panties and make full on contact with her sex, creating an overwhelming, aching need in her that only he was capable of fulfilling.

She grasped his shoulders, her fingernails sinking into the skin covering his well-developed deltoid muscles, as he slipped a large finger slowly inside her and made direct contact with her swollen nub. He rolled the tender bundle between his thumb and forefinger, while his middle finger continued to pump in and out of her tight, wet, slippery tunnel. His hand was drenched in her juices.

He desperately wanted to replace his hand and fingers with his mouth and tongue, but he could tell by the way her breathing and pulse rate had sped up and from how her hips were bucking against him, that she was close to coming. He would make her climax that way later, too, with his tongue thrusting in and out of her, licking up her sweet honey. Then, after that-

They were so enthralled with one another that they didn't hear the ringing of the phone at first. When the noise became repetitive enough to be annoying, they chose to ignore it, continuing to pleasure each other. She faintly heard her voice in the background, instructing the caller to leave a message.

A faraway beep sounded, and an excited male voice filled the living room.

"Babe, I have to talk to you. I have some absolutely awesome news to tell you…"

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: Sweet Dreams: Sweetest Taboo

**Author**: Night_Lotus

**Rating**: NC-17

**Word Count**: 2,056

**Disclaimer: **I neither own Chuck nor its marvelous characters, but I do have fun bringing them out to play.

**Summary**: This takes place within Season 2 of "Chuck." Can dreams truly become reality?

**Author's Note**: I've missed my Jellies, and I've missed this story. Writing it felt a little bit like coming home. I hope you enjoy.

He cupped her velvety soft mound in his palm, her slick, engorged core wept for him, bathing him in the scalding hot essence of her desire, as she rode the digit buried deep inside her canal while he thrust in and out of her.

He watched, captivated by the delectable picture she painted, her head thrown back, the tips of her rich, chocolate-brown hair skimming across the kitchen counter as she undulated against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, in perfect sync.

She had long ago stopped uttering words, punctuating the air instead with the sweetest, sexiest sounds he'd ever heard. Each open-mouthed moan, every need-laced whimper mercilessly ate away at his nearly non-existent self control.

Need. Desire. Want. Those words and their meanings no longer existed for her. Everything was purely primordial, reduced to the feeling of him holding her where she was the most vulnerable and needy, soothing one ache while creating another that burned even deeper within her.

She was reduced to base vocalizations to communicate her reactions to the mind-altering sensations that ignited within the depths of her womb and licked at the walls of her core as her muscles gripped his finger, drawing it deeper. She was teetering on the brink of release and needed him to send her hurtling over the edge. A strangled "John," forced its way from her throat, escaping on a rush of air, as she panted his name.

The naked need in her voice unleashed the beast that he kept locked deep inside, breaking the chains of restraint wrapped around the animal within. _Mine. Want. Take. _It howled. He threaded his free hand through her hair, wrapping the strands around his fist, further anchoring her to him as he inserted a second finger, spreading it and the other that was already embedded deep within, widening her channel. "I know, sweetheart, I'm going to make it better," he promised, as he crooked his fingers, the roughened pads of his fingertips deliciously abrading her G-spot.

Ellie felt the heat as he breathed his assurance against her mouth, a scant moment before he claimed her lips in a savage, almost brutal kiss, his tongue seeking and securing immediate dominance, sealing her to him. He sucked her tongue into his mouth as his fingers continued to drive her to the edge of reason.

The normally shrill ring of the phone sounded far, far away, and she paid it no mind. He was her only focus, and she wanted to stay fused to him forever. They were connected physically and emotionally in a way that she had never experienced before. When you made love with someone, you were supposed to become one with them. She'd always scoffed at that cliché. Sure, sex was great, utterly fantastic upon occasion, but it had never been earth moving, at least not for her, and certainly not between her and Devon. Well, John Casey was very handily succeeding in changing that for her, as well as a whole host of other previously held conceptions. Her way of looking at things, at perceiving the world around her, was shifting.

He had started teetering on the edge of sanity as soon as his tongue swept across that lusty, pouty lower lip of hers, his teeth sinking into the plump flesh, tugging, coaxing her mouth open, licking and conquering his way into the dark, hot cavern. Now that he'd had a taste, his hunger would never be satiated.

Threads of need were inseparably interwoven with her desire. He could feel both, as well as her complete trust as she rode his hand with wild abandon. The act of her putting herself literally in his hands, exposing her vulnerability, shattered him, pushing him over the edge. She belonged to him now. All his. She was in his blood, blood that boiled and raced, making molten hot tracks straight for his groin.

Her lips were parted and the lusty moans she was making were driving him crazy. She was so tight, so wet and ready for him as he continued to milk her most intimate spot. He had a pretty good imagination, but he was fairly certain that his vision of what it would feel like to be buried hilt deep inside of her, her hot, slick walls clamping down around his cock, would pale in comparison to the real deal. He was about to find out.

The ringing finally stopped. She could hear herself talking in the background, instructing the caller to leave a message. After a brief beep and a short pause, **his** voice filled the room. "Babe, I have to talk to you. I have some absolutely awesome news to tell you. You're probably out doing some shopping at the farmer's market. I hope you got some awesome fruits and veggies. Remember, it's important to get your recommended daily allowance of produce, but you already know that, right babe? Anyway, give me a call when you get back."

As soon as he heard Captain Douche Bag's disgustingly animated voice yammering over the answering machine, he disentangled his hand from Ellie's hair and reached behind his back, still kissing her and pleasuring her with his other hand. He came up empty. The comfortable, familiar bulge at the small of his back wasn't there. His trusty Sigg was AWOL. He'd left it at home when he came calling on Ellie. Annoyance quickly gave way to animosity toward the man whose bodiless voice continued to drone on, encroaching where it wasn't wanted.

If he'd had the Sigg, it would have already been in his hand, the barrel smoking after he pumped several rounds of hot iron into the squawk box, eliminating the final barrier to him claiming her. Before the report from the last shot faded, she would be on her back, laid out before him on the counter. He would open her up with his mouth, thrusting his tongue deep inside, feasting on her, gorging himself on her sweetness as he made her come.

He felt it the second that it clicked into place for her just whose voice was bubbling enthusiastically from the answering machine. She went rigid in his arms, the flames they'd built into an inferno quickly dying as realization crept in, icy cold, dousing the fire.

At first, he wasn't sure if she was embarrassed at being virtually caught by Devon, or if she was angered by the interruption, or a little bit of both. It was anger, most definitely anger. Wordlessly, he withdrew, reluctantly disconnecting from her and followed the narrowed, incensed glare that she cast over her shoulder at the answering machine.

It was unearthly quiet in the condo, the only sounds in the still, tense air around them were those of their erratic breathing gradually returning to normal, combined with the suddenly overly loud ticking of the second hand from the large wrought iron clock hanging above the fireplace.

Neither of them moved for several moments, or uttered a word. He finally withdrew his hand, which was still caught beneath her panties. He settled the silky soft scrap of lace back on her hips, his fingers lingering a bit longer than necessary on the satiny flesh there. He lifted her off the counter, gently setting her down on her feet, his hands remaining at her waist, steadying her as the sundress floated back down around her thighs.

She was stunned speechless, words refusing to form in her mouth. She wanted to throw her arms around his waist and bury her head against his strong, broad chest, seeking the shelter that she knew he could give. She longed to keep the real world at bay, to evade the reality of what she knew she must do.

Ellie lifted her head, her worried gray eyes seeking respite, searching for answers in the depths of the dark blues that held her gaze steadfast and true. "John, I, I-," she struggled, the words evaporating on her tongue. "I'm so sorry," she elaborated, biting down on her now trembling lower lip in an effort to stop it from quaking.

He took her hand in one of his, framing her face with the other. "Don't Ellie. Don't be sorry." He lowered his mouth to hers, covering her lips with his, and their mouths moved slowly together in tandem. "Never be sorry for this," he whispered, his warm breath a last, gentle caress before his lips fully withdrew from hers. "I'm not," he said, releasing her hand and backing away a few steps, giving her space.

She could feel him slipping away from her as reality crawled back in, insinuating itself where she felt most vulnerable, coiling itself around her uncertainties, feeding upon her doubts. "John, wait, don't go," she beseeched, reaching out to him.

"It's okay, Ellie," he said, walking toward the door. "I'm not going very far. I'm just a few steps away if you need me," he reassured, nodding his head toward the condo directly across the courtyard as he stepped out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

"But I need you now," she said to the empty room, leaning warily against the counter, swallowing the lump forming in her throat, refusing to shed the tears that were stinging at the backs of her eyes. She marched herself back to the bedroom and lifted the cordless phone from its cradle, sighing wearily as she sank down on the edge of the bed and began dialing.

Casey poured a generous amount of Maker's Mark into the glass, resisting the urge to take a long pull straight from the bottle as he sank down into the recliner, the leather molding itself to his body. He tossed the amber contents back in one large gulp and grimaced as it burned down his suddenly raw throat.

He'd meant what he told Ellie right before he walked out on one of the best goddamned moments of his life. He wasn't sorry, not for any of it. Not for inviting himself into her home with the clear intention of seducing her. Not for taking and pleasuring another man's woman right against the pristine, white tile of said man's kitchen countertop. And certainly not for mentally ticking off the hundreds of ways he was capable of making Captain Interruptus suffer.

He could still taste her on his tongue and feel her in his arms, her spicy scent coating his hand. His nostrils flared as his nose scented her pheromones in the air. He poured himself another shot, bolting it back faster than the first. The sound of shattering glass drew his attention. The whiskey vessel was now in shards, some on the carpet near his feet, others embedded in his bloody fist. He watched as bright red drops of blood flowed freely from his torn skin, sinking into the dull beige carpet. He sighed. Yet another bloodstain to clean out of the carpet. This time it was his. The coppery tang of his blood mixed with the heady smell of her musk. _Mine. Want. Take. _

He stood. He was going back to finish what he started. He planned to go pure caveman. As soon as she opened the door, he was going to throw her over his shoulder, carry her straight to the bedroom and peel that sunny little dress off of those luscious curves and wrap her up in him instead. His fingertips brushed the doorknob as the beep come from his surveillance equipment, which ran 24/7. He turned and walked over to his kitchen table and glanced at the monitor, which notified him that an outgoing phone call originating from the Bartowski/Woodcombe household was being placed to Devon Woodcombe's cell phone. His still-bloody finger hovered over the audio button. By simply pressing it, he could intercept Ellie's call to Devon. Instead, he turned away and headed for the bathroom to clean and bandage his damaged hand. He'd done enough home invading for one day.

Twenty minutes after calling Devon, Ellie emerged from their shared condo, carrying a small overnight bag. She tossed the bag into the passenger seat before climbing behind the wheel of the Beemer. Lowering the top, she pulled out of the parking lot, the wind lifting the strands of her hair, which waved silently to the pair of blue eyes watching from the window in the courtyard.


End file.
